


like a shrike to your sharp, and glorious thorn

by Rupzydaisy



Series: the haruspices sing on [3]
Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, back in the day fic, masriel, the arctic institute, they play 'my horse is bigger than your horse'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:13:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21564325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rupzydaisy/pseuds/Rupzydaisy
Summary: They play a strange game, like a dance where she can't see where her feet are supposed to land.She won't be the one to stumble, or fall.
Relationships: Lord Asriel/Marisa Coulter
Series: the haruspices sing on [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1609966
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	like a shrike to your sharp, and glorious thorn

Marisa walks up the steps to the Arctic Institute, joining the queue for the cloakroom and shrugs off her white fur coat, feeling the prickle of eyes turn to her. Underneath, she wore a blue velvet dress, sleek and as dark as the night sky, and a thin silver chain with a single diamond set into the circular pendant. It was a black-tie event, with a sea of men wearing black dinner jackets and women in silk dresses paired with their owners’ good jewellery adorning their necks and wrists. 

She stands out in a sea of shimmering material, just as she had known she would. 

Taking her evening’s companion’s proffered arm, they walk into the room and begin to chat with the people who approach. His bird daemon, a small wren-like creature with a smattering of golden feathers amongst the deep brown, chirps in delight from the perch on his shoulder. 

“Isn’t it exciting?” Johannes turns to grin at her. 

“Your first exhibition! You must be so pleased.” She flashes an easy smile back, thinking how easy it was to please some people. “Let’s see what they have on show.” 

In her opinion, the Arctic Institute had done a decent job in arranging the event. The main atrium had been rearranged and the old skeletons of Arctic explorers and their sleds had been replaced by ancient leather-skin books displayed in glass cabinets and a polished spear laid out on the table in the middle of the room. It was a celebration of the recent flurry of discoveries their members had accomplished which included findings divined from ancient artefacts procured from the Tartars’ most oldest settlements, the trading of a set of rare books to be added to their library, and some theoretical physics proofs that could change many people’s view of the importance of the North. Her work would soon be included in that, if enough funding was thrown behind it, but this event wasn’t a lynchpin to secure it.

So when she stands underneath the largest of the electrum chandeliers in the main hall, with the hubbub all around, it seemed worth it to get dressed up. 

At least it was, until she sees him. 

Her fingers curl around Johannes’ arm as she watches Asriel stand on the other side of the hall with the third or fourth woman of the week dangling off his arm. He is the only man in the room not dressed in a suit, but in his travelling clothes, as if to make a bold statement. His woolen jumper and boots certainly do that. On the other hand, his date’s burgundy silk dress is a deep, rich colour, almost as dark as the red wine in her glass. Marisa sees how it matches the stained colour on her lips, and his. Her dark hair was curled into loose waves, but does nothing to detract from her pale face, as if she’s only just been coaxed out into the sunlight. 

She finds herself reaching a finger up to brush her own hair back, and in that time, Marisa recognises her from the newsletters circulated to all institute members. She recalls that her name is Mia Rolstad, and that she is a researcher working alongside the Kristiansand University theoretical physics department.

Her daemon growls quietly by her feet, and she nods. It’s true, the woman is not much better than her own company for the evening. Johannes is very easy on the eyes, and ever so polite to her, but he was as dull as a doorknob when talking about anything other than polo. Although he's the son of the Marquis of Rotterdam, he's nothing more than a desk boy and it was only through his father’s influence that he managed to attach his name to the findings he brought to London. 

Still, it wouldn’t do for a chance meeting, not tonight. 

She leads Johannes onwards and they continue to mingle. As they circle the room, Marisa does her best to keep Asriel on the opposite side, but when her companion gets caught up in conversation and they grind to halt.

It isn’t long before Asriel’s charming laugh reaches her. 

It feels like an age since she last heard it.

Marisa turns and wrinkles her nose delicately at Asriel’s latest piece of walking jewellery before smiling thinly at him. “Oh, it’s you, I thought you were off at one of the satellite stations in Tromso. Lord Asriel likes to shun the comforts we have here in London.” 

“Not all comfort.” His reply is aimed directly at her before his dark eyes flick across to their companions and he laughs again. “The things we do for knowledge!” 

“Shame. You'd make a very good penguin.” Marisa glances down as Stelmaria flicks her tail, even while Asriel keeps the same, placid looking smile on his face. She tugs at her companion’s arm so that he is jolted forward and runs her hand down his sleeve. “How silly of me, have you met Johannes de Vries?” 

“I haven’t had the pleasure-” 

“Johannes has some of his work on display tonight.”

“Does he?” Asriel stretches out his hand to shake Johannes’. “Fascinating! Congratulations on your work.”

Johannes stares at him for a long moment before blinking, his handshake suddenly turns more enthusiastic and his eyes widen. “Lord Asriel. I’ve been following your work for years. I think you are the more fascinating one. It is not really my work actually-” 

Marisa interrupts, drowning him out with a gush of praise, “Oh, don’t say that! Your contributions have been invaluable and I’m sure your father, the Marquis, is absolutely thrilled to have you representing him here tonight.”

Once all eyes in the group were fixed back on her, Marisa smiles widely again, all teeth, and turns to look at the other woman. “Who might you be?” 

“I’m Mia, Mia Rolstad.” She shakes Johannes’ hand first. Then she turns to Marisa, her dormouse daemon is curled into the folds of her black wrap. It eyes her monkey warily, even while his human shifts her feet and shakes Marisa’s hand. “I know who you are, I’ve read your work! You must tell me more about the clocks-” 

This time it is Asriel who interrupts, “Mia has recently published a ground breaking article on complicated-lace magnetic fields.” 

Marisa openly glares at him, and her voice immediately cuts over his. “Johannes, you must tell us more about the studies on quantum fluctuations in low-density mediums. It is astounding that these texts, texts which the Tartars of all people, cobbled together so many centuries ago, have been raised to towering heights of modern-day theorem.”

“Mia, darling, didn’t you mention how you’ve personally made advances in this niche field of yours, about minute fluctuations in the magnetic fields and that presence of fractals.” 

Asriel pauses, turning to look at Johannes and share some of his awe. “Some of them have been measured to last for just milliseconds!” 

Marisa leans against Johannes’ arm, slipping her hand up and around his shoulder to rest it there. “What was it you were telling me over dinner at the Sapphire Lounge. I’m sure the board here at the Arctic Institute will be incredibly interested in the applications to high density mediums. They may even choose to strike up a partnership.” 

“Oh, I’ve heard about the quantum fluctuations. And I know a man in Muscovy who has been working on their vibrational frequencies. It’s a bit of a secret for now, so you didn’t hear it from me.” 

Beside him, Mia lets out a small laugh, prematurely ending when she sees Marisa’s nose wrinkle. Asriel ignores her reaction and claps the other man over his shoulder in a heavy-handed but friendly gesture. Just as she thought that would be the end of it all, Asriel eyes glance at her in mirth and he finds a way to trump her. “Johannes, you look like a man who can appreciate a good whiskey. Simmons keeps a bottle for me behind the bar at these events. Shall we?”

Johannes looked like a man whose birthdays had all come at once. “That would be wonderful!” 

His enthusiasm sickens Marisa. She mentally labels him a traitor and watches with narrowed eyes and as the two men walk off. Steeling herself to make small talk with the other woman, she turns and catches sight of the dormouse scampering up her shoulder to hide inside her hair. Mia smiles weakly back at her and makes her excuses, apparently having caught sight of some of her penfriends. 

Marisa remains a picture of poise despite being left alone at the side of the busy room, and swipes a glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray. She doesn't enjoy turning the conversation over and over in her head, and drinks quickly, hoping the sharp bubbles would swirl her churning emotions into something else. Her belief that her feelings for Asriel would disappear once he left for Norway had been false. She had thought she could count on the distance and passing months to wither those original heady feeling he had inspired. It seemed futile now to tell herself it was a mere infatuation with a handsome, daring, and mysterious man.

Those lies were easier than admitting anything else. 

Asriel had a strange, unmatchable talent for making her feel flustered and annoyed whenever she was in his presence. He had a knack for getting under her skin in as few words as possible, and it appeared to remain true. He had been back in Brytain for mere days, and she had only laid eyes on him for just minutes, and all she could do was think about him. 

Her monkey sits on the table beside her, fiddling with a napkin, eyes darting across the room to watch Asriel and his snow leopard stride back across the tiled floor, parting couples and groups in their way. The cold north air and the harsh time spent in the wilderness had done little to diminish him. She had half hoped that his time in the north would humble him, in the way only nature could, but it appeared to only enhance his own ruggedness. Behind him on the other side of the room, Mia and Johannes lean over one of the display cases chatting amicably. 

“Well, I think they’re getting on quite well.” 

She sniffs at her almost empty glass. “You would say that.” 

Asriel waves a waiter over and swaps out her glass for a fresh one. When he hands it over, the liquid tips sideways and a torrent of bubbles fizzes up to the surface of the golden liquid. Somehow, without her realising, he had moved closer to her so when she turns to him, she can feel the warmth of his body against her bare arm. 

“You think you’re so clever.”

“I am. I knew that necklace would look good on you.”

Marisa scoffs under her breath and drains the glass of champagne before holding it out for him to take off her. When he does, the edge of her lip drifts upwards in a smile. The alcohol had gone straight to her head and loosened her tongue on the way. She the warmth spread through her limbs and wants nothing more than to prise him apart, the same way he does to her. 

Her smile widens more genuinely. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.” 

“Notice what?” 

He feigns ignorance well, but it doesn’t fool her. 

“Her.” 

They both look over at Mia. The similarities were too striking, and she swallows hard. Her mouth feels dry despite the drink, because from the side, the woman’s hair and her slim figure could easily have a stranger mistaking them for each other and her work in theoretical physics had been a good read on a rainy day a couple of weeks ago when Marisa had nothing better to do. 

“And him?” Asriel leans against the table and if ever the man were to blush, this was the closest moment to it. “I’ll admit it, I liked the compliment.” 

“Compliment?” 

She hadn’t meant for there to be one. Johannes was under the thumb of his father, with a mostly empty head and a lack of a desire to travel or complete any piece of meaningful work. It was supposed to be a slap in the face. 

“He’s been following my work.” 

“He has his own mind.” But she can’t keep herself from snorting, and then a half-laugh falls out of her mouth along with the rest of her opinion. “Albeit being dim-witted and incapable of parsing true science from your fairy tale nonsense is one of his flaws. I shan’t be sending any invitations his way again.”

“Speaking of invitations…” The twitch on Asriel’s lips returns. “I think I remember us discussing dinner plans the last time we met?”

Her smile disappears, and her reply was delivered with an arched eyebrow. “Why don’t you take Mia.” 

It comes out much more of a jibe than a barbed question, and again she is only frustrated with herself and the way he brings out these feelings. She never marked herself as a jealous woman, not with her talents to acquire the things she wanted or the company she wished to keep. It was beyond frustrating. Endlessly. 

The table beside her rocks violently and Stelmaria raises up on her hind legs to huff hot breath into her daemon's face. And she doesn't drop back down; she stays there, waiting. Marisa’s daemon reaches a paw out to press against her brow, before Marisa makes a noise at the back of her throat. Her daemon turns to look at her, then he slowly pushes the snow leopard's face away. 

It was more gentle than she would have preferred. 

Asriel sighs, “The same reason I’m standing here and not over there. I’m afraid the conversation would dry up all too quickly. It would be a waste of my time. She’s a bright woman-” 

Marisa’s lips twist in disgust.

He tilts his head sideward, appraising her in a way that sends a shiver down her spine, “But she’s not _you_.”

It suddenly feels like the air has vanished from the room, and she blinks slowly as she scrambles to find the right words. Her composure returns, and she's as cutting as ever. “Well, if the bar is set so high, you might have to dine alone for the rest of your life. Or go back to the north.”

“Would you be willing to come?” 

His question throws her completely, again. Had she not been leaning against the wall; her feet might have given way there and then. Her skin burns, her thoughts reel, and then leap, and she shoves it all back down. She is not the kind of woman to entertain fanciful thinking. 

“With you?” Marisa laughs loudly, catching the eye of a couple passing by. “Wouldn’t I have to buy into your far-flung ideas?”

“Far-flung, perhaps, but I know you’re intrigued by it. We could achieve great things.” His smile is smaller, more tense. “The offer stands-”

The dinner bell rings loudly, and like a flock of birds turning in the wind, the crowd moves. The moment passes, broken by the interruption and he leaves it there, only sighing loudly again. She looks away, unsure of what else he might decide to spring on her. Instead she watches as Mia and Johannes walk arm in arm towards the dining hall and rolls her eyes. Her monkey skitters back from the edge of the table as Stelmaria finally lowers herself back to the floor. 

“Don’t bore me now, Asriel. Look, you’ve already managed to scare away my companion for the evening.” 

“And I seem to have lost my own on the way.” He tilts his head, smiling in a way only people so confident of their own charm can do. “Come on, Marisa. People like you don’t walk into rooms like these alone. You’re far too important for that.” 

She considers it for a long moment as a steady stream of people walk out, until it is only the stragglers left. This game of theirs is unlike one she’s played before. It feels to her like the rules are ever-changing, and the battleground ever shifting. Still, she is certain that she won’t be the one to back down. 

She rests her hand on his arm with the lightest of touches and lets him lead the way. “I sincerely hope you deliver on the promise of sparking conversation and impressive wit.” 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I know, I know, penguins don’t live in the north, they live in the Antarctic, but let my joke stand, it’s a parallel universe right?


End file.
